


Farewell

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the gameofships LJ community based on the prompt “I hate and I love: why I do so you may well ask. I do not know, but I feel it happen and am in agony.” Catullus, “Odi et amo”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farewell

He came to her one last time after his betrothal, and although she hated herself for it, Barbrey allowed it. It wasn’t that she blamed Brandon, after all. She was no fool, realizing that at the barest level, Ryswell was not Tully. Her sister, after all, had not made much of a match either, and she should have realized that such fairy story endings do not come to almost-pretty, far too sharp daughters of small lords. And there was the matter of the Maesters as well, whispering in Lord Stark’s all-too-trusting ear.

But she cast those meanderings aside as Brandon stood before her, bare-faced and choked for words, his hands shaking slightly as he tore apart the lacings on her bodice, his jaw tense as he met her mouth in a kiss that threatened to smother her with its insistence. Barbrey clung to him for a brief while, her eyes closed; it had undone her more than she would have liked to admit to see the pain in Brandon’s eyes.

She gripped him as though she would lose him, and thought, I will lose you; I will lose you to Riverrun, and haven’t they enough? Haven’t they everything there? While Father and Beth and I and the boys have had to make do with what little the Rills yields, year after year. Horseflesh, harsh winters, hard looks from the villagers. Weak marriages, alliances no one save us wants. And ambition, broken, frustrated, thwarted ambition.

But she did not say any of it. She merely let herself vent it as she knew how, bruises like her fingers on his shoulders, something for his southron bride to see and fret about. But no tears, no pleas, nothing but a harsh goodbye whispered in his ear, for she knew that it would be the last time. It had to be.

And how she hated it.

She did not break until he was gone.


End file.
